


Who We Are Together

by wetwbeen



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/F, Lesbians!, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 09:37:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetwbeen/pseuds/wetwbeen
Summary: De Sardet wakes up early to sketch the beautiful river the group has made camp by, accompanied by Siora, who takes an interest in her drawings. De Sardet, flustered as always by Siora's presence, nearly makes a fool of her self, but it turns out wonderfully in the end.





	Who We Are Together

The early morning sun glinted brightly off the narrow river. De Sardet sat at its sandy shore, her hair tied up off the back of her neck with a pale blue ribbon, her large leather-bound journal in her lap. She squinted upriver, tilting her head as she held out her pencil to better gauge the angle of the fallen tree in the distance before committing the image to paper. She paused in her scribbling to pull the hem of her simple shirt back up onto her shoulder before going back to her drawing. She turned her attention to the highlights of the water rushing past, and so focused was she on the act that she did not hear the soft footsteps coming up behind her until Siora sat down next to her. 

De Sardet jumped a little, shutting her journal with a _ snap! _ and hurriedly dropped the spare pencil she had been holding in between her teeth into her lap. 

“Siora!” she said, ducking her head a little in greeting and hoping that the other woman was as distracted by the sparkling water as she had been enough to miss the blush creeping into her cheeks. 

“I did not mean to startle you, _ carants _,” Siora said with a smile, “you were not in your tent, so I came to look for you. What… are you doing here?” She crossed her legs in front of her as she scooted a little bit closer to De Sardet.

The small adrenaline burst from the surprise arrival fading, De Sardet relaxed back into the sand and reopened her journal to the page she had been working on: the page where she had sketched and began to fill in the drawing of the river scene before her. 

“I saw this place when we were settling last night, but it was too dark for anything then. So I came back when I woke up to sketch it.” She glanced over at Siora in time to see her look pointedly back down the river, almost as if she had been looking at De Sardet instead of her book. Smiling, De Sardet continued. 

“Back on the continent, we call this time of morning the ‘Golden Hour,’ when the light is perfect for art, like gold.” She smiled as she once again took pencil to paper, this time rounding out the silhouette of a boulder. She made sure to tilt the journal enough so that Siora could have a clear view of what she was doing. 

Siora’s eyes widened slightly as she peered over De Sardet’s shoulder at the drawing, and she murmured something in her language that sounded like an admiration. She stretched out a hand and placed her fingertips on the blank page to the left of the drawing, and De Sardet had to clamp down on the inside of her cheek with her teeth and focus on not thinking about how near each other they were. Or about Siora’s fingertips would feel on her skin instead of on paper. Or of how her language would taste muttered into her mouth… 

“May I see it closer?”  


Siora’s voice jarred De Sardet from her reverie, and it was all she could do to nod and hand the journal over, clamping her hand down on her pencil so hard the soft core of it threatened to break. Smiling widely, Siora raised herself to one knee as she held the journal out in front of her, lining it up with the landscape it depicted. 

“This is amazing, _ on ol menawi, _” Siora said as she briefly glanced back at De Sardet, “you even have drawn the lizard on the rock!” She pointed eagerly to the small reptile that indeed sat sunning itself on a dry stone protruding from the opposite bank, a little farther up the river from where they were sitting. De Sardet smiled as Siora lowered the journal into her lap and sat back down, examining the drawing closer, and couldn’t help but marvel at the way Siora lips parted as she looked the page over, or how a little crease formed between her eyebrows as she concentrated on the details. 

“Have you done more?” Siora asked, running a thumb over the used pages in the book, dry paper riffling pleasantly under her touch. 

“Some, yes, though most of it is just written words,” De Sardet took the book gently back from Siora as she handed it over and began turning back through the pages, skipping over the ones where she had detailed her thoughts of days past. 

“Here’s one from my window in New Sérène,” she said as she showed the journal to Siora, who once again moved closer. She smiled as she reached out to hover her fingertips over the outlines of the rooftops and windows. De Sardet her pinched her bottom lip between her teeth as she tried, and failed, to stifle her smile, and flipped back a few more pages.

“The City of Lions,” Siora murmured, and De Sardet nodded as they both looked down at the sketch of Hikmet, done from the distant hill they had first camped on when approaching the city. While most of the drawing was finished, the left side faded out into rough construction lines and grey smudges. 

“What happened there?” Siora asked with a laugh in her voice. 

“Frustration over a particularly complicated tower,” De Sardet replied with a little chuckle of her own, “I decided that it wasn’t worth the effort.”

Backwards they went again until they flipped to a dark drawing dappled with bits of light, as if the rays of the sun were actually falling through the thick canopy of leaves it depicted. Again Siora said something in her language, and De Sardet swallowed hard against the flutter in her throat, heat rising once more in her cheeks. She peeled back the corners of the pages until she found the one she was looking for, and folded the whole lot over to reveal a scene crisscrossed by the rigging of Vasco’s ship, the vast expanse of the sea stretching out past its bow. 

“A view from Vasco’s ship,” De Sardet clarified, and she leaned in a little closer to the journal and pointed at a vaguely triangle-shaped something in the far background of the drawing, “with a little Teer Fradee in the distance.” 

Siora smiled, also leaning in to examine the page further, and, though it was the last thing she wanted to do, De Sardet retreated to a more respectful distance. 

“We were actually a few hours out from being able to see the island,” De Sardet said with a little smile, “But I was so excited to see it that I drew it in anyway. And then,” She took a handful of pages as she turned them back in several large chunks, almost to the beginning of the book, “These might interest you.” 

Siora pulled the journal gently into her lap with a little sound of admiration, eyes locked on the fully sketched and shaded landscape of a bustling city, complete with little people. 

“Sérène, back on the continent. I remember you asking what my home looked like, well, here it is,” she paused as Siora paged back to reveal an equally detailed cityscape, this time from farther away. The tall masts of a ship could be seen to the left, and in the distance, the palace towered over the lower levels of the city below. 

“There are so many drawings in here,” Siora said, her voice full of wonder as she returned to the first Sérène landscape, “Why do you make them all?” 

De Sardet shrugged, and although Siora was still entranced by the journal, she looked over at her. 

“I like to draw beautiful things,” she said simply, and Siora smiled down onto the drawing. 

“You see beauty everywhere,” Siora stated simply and De Sardet nodded, though she knew she could not see. 

“I do.” De Sardet said softly, still gazing at Siora. 

Siora turned to look at her then, a bright smile on her face. De Sardet simply let herself smile back, and Siora’s eyebrows rose slightly up her forehead before she returned her gaze to the book. De Sardet watched as her smile grew wider for a moment once she was turned away. 

They sat there in silence for a while as Siora thumbed back and forth through the journal, returning to the drawings they had already seen and discovering a new one tucked between two pages thick with text. 

As Siora studied the new piece, De Sardet couldn’t help but study her. The way the golden sunlight danced along the strands of her hair and over the curves of the branches that parted it. Her gaze roamed over the gentle curve of her nose and her high cheekbones, the gentle planes of her face and the soft parting of her lips. It felt like something was expanding rapidly in De Sardet’s chest, and it took all of her self control and willpower not to reach over and brush the stray short lock of hair that had fallen over the shell of Siora’s ear… 

“May I draw you?” De Sardet blurted, and instantly recoiled, hand pressed lightly over her lips as Siora turned to her, one eyebrow raised slightly.  


“What?” she asked as she blinked slowly, as if coming out of a spell cast by the journal in her lap. 

“I-” De Sardet stammered, and she could tell that she was blushing furiously. _ Cat’s out of the bag now. _

“Would you allow me,” De Sardet began again as she lowered her hand from her mouth, “to draw you?” 

When Siora did not respond immediately, De Sardet’s mind began to spiral and the sinking fear that she had offended her friend settled heavy in her stomach. She was about to start backtracking rapidly when Siora, after a glance to the journal, beamed. 

“You... would like to draw me?” She asked, her voice gentle compared to her bright smile, and De Sardet nodded, a hopeful smile of her own creeping onto her lips. 

Again Siora looked down at the journal, thumb running over the edges of its leather cover, and she turned back to De Sardet as she held out her journal. 

“You may,” Siora said, and De Sardet smiled delightedly as she took back the book and picked up the pencil from where it had fallen to the sand.

“What… do you need me to do?” Siora asked, sounding suddenly a little nervous. De Sardet held her hand out and Siora took it without hesitation. 

“Just move over a little bit, just there” De Sardet said as she guided Siora more into the golden light, and she relinquished her hand after a moment’s wait. Siora settled into the sand once more, and De Sardet let her get comfortable. 

“And now just,” De Sardet paused as she reached towards Siora and gently took her chin between her thumb and forefinger, “Turn your head a little that way…” Though she was sure she was imagining it, De Sardet saw Siora’s breath catch in her chest as she complied. De Sardet held her hand there for perhaps a moment too long, for she was a bit light headed as she finally withdrew her touch and twirled her pencil in her main hand. She flipped to a new page, and Siora turned her head slightly at the noise. 

“Don’t move now,” De Sardet said light-heartedly, and Siora quickly corrected herself with a quick apology and a smile.

“Just relax,” De Sardet said as she began drawing, and Siora’s smile grew wider for a moment before she remembered her directions and worked her face into a relaxed expression once more. 

With expert hands, De Sardet captured Siora’s rough silhouette with a few quick strokes, using the side of her pencil to make broad shadows along her jawline and cheekbones. Then came the working of the finer details, and De Sardet relished in the opportunity to take in Siora uninhibited. She found her gaze lingering most on her eyes and lips, trying several times to the shapes right without her mind drifting off into daydreams. The light shifted slowly as the sun continued to rise, and De Sardet looked up from her page to find Siora had closed her eyes against the glare. 

Again De Sardet felt the rapid expansion in her chest at the sight. The long grass beyond their little bank whispered against itself and the gentle rush and flow of the river filled their ears; even the occasional bug that buzzed by only added to the peaceful atmosphere. The golden light highlighted Siora’s fine cheekbones and jaw, dancing over her freckled cheeks as the tranquil breeze rolling off the river made her long eyelashes whisper against her skin. De Sardet’s hand stilled on the drawing as she continued to gaze at Siora, knowing full well that if the other woman were to look over at her that she would see the awestruck look on her face and her cover would be blown. So, De Sardet took a deep breath and forced her hand into movement once more. 

She had finished shading Siora’s skin, after paying detailed attention to her _ on ol menawi _mark, and had almost completed her hair when Siora opened her eyes slowly, as if she were rising from a dream. 

“How does it look?” She asked softly, not turning her head but studying De Sardet out of the corner of her eye the best she could, “I could fall back asleep here.”

“I’m almost finished,” De Sardet said with a little laugh, “Don’t go falling asleep on me now.” 

Siora smiled, eyes falling back shut, “It is hard not to; it is very comfortable around you.” 

Her eyes flew open as if she had not meant to speak, and she flicked her gaze over, almost nervously, but De Sardet could only smile as she continued to work on her drawing. Siora seemed to relax again, and after a few more minutes, De Sardet set her pencil down in the crease between the open pages. 

“All done,” she said with quiet triumph, and Siora immediately stretched her hands up over her head. De Sardet quickly busied herself with cleaning up a smudge on the paper to keep attention away from the little strip of skin beneath the hem of Siora’s shirt that her stretch exposed, and stuck her spare pencil behind her ear. 

“Sorry to make you sit still so long,” De Sardet apologized as Siora returned her arms to her sides and scooted over next to her, so close that their shoulders were pressed together. Siora shook her head. 

  
“It is alright, I am excited to see what you’ve made.”

De Sardet turned the journal to face Siora without a word, and held her breath as Siora looked it over. 

“Oh _ carants, _” Siora began, voice soft as she held the book up into the light, “it’s beautiful…” 

De Sardet’s face broke into a wide smile as her heart squeezed and pounded at the same time, watching as Siora touched her fingertips first to the drawing of her mark, then to the one on her cheek. 

“Of course, it’s you,” De Sardet said without thinking, but she held her ground as Siora turned to look at her, something unreadable but undeniably warm in her eyes. Siora lowered the book, and opened her mouth to say something, _ was it just her, or was Siora leaning ever so slightly forward, towards her? _

“Oi, Green Blood!” 

Kurt’s sudden call from atop the small, nearby hill startled them both violently. Siora jumped and dropped the journal, and De Sardet swore aloud as she whipped around to glare at him. 

“What!” She yelled back, careful to keep her voice suppressed enough not to deafen Siora but loud enough to carry to her old Master of Arms. 

“If you’re gonna lollygag down there, might as well catch us some breakfast!” Kurt responded before turning and disappearing behind the crest of the hill. De Sardet swore again and turned back to Siora, but the spell had been broken. Siora smiled at her as she handed over the, now closed, journal, pencil still wedged between its pages.  


“Thank you,” De Sardet said softly, still lamenting the vanished peace of their little riverbank, but Siora shook her head, her hand lightly brushing against De Sardet’s fingers as she relinquished the journal.

“Thank you, _ carants _, for a truly wonderful morning.”

De Sardet grinned as Siora stood, and did the same. 

“You’re very welcome, Siora.” 

With a grin that struck De Sardet as suddenly mischievous, Siora turned away slowly and started back up the hill towards the campsite. 

“Although your Kurt is right, some fish would make a nice breakfast!” she called over her shoulder, and De Sardet sighed loudly and exasperatedly, though she could not wrestle the happiness from her face. 

“Alright, alright,” she called defeatedly after Siora’s retreating form, and turned back to face the river, unbridled grin still on her face. 

_ Oh, she had it bad. Bad indeed. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i need to satisfy my own gay little heart ;_;


End file.
